


If I am lost for a day, try to find me

by gemessential



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: F/F, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 14:30:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4266708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemessential/pseuds/gemessential
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern high school AU. Haruka has had some uncomfortable dreams about the new girl in school; mainly, she's seen her die four times before they even meet. Also Michiru is a ~teen witch~*~*~*~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fortythousandth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortythousandth/gifts).



> Trigger warning for blood, gore initially. Also there are so many fandom cliches in this and I’m sorry. Haruka is defs genderqueer or on the transgender spectrum.

It was the fourth night of the same dream: beautiful women dying in front of her, their blood slick on the black marble floor. Haruka didn’t yell for help this time; she knew better. Oddly enough, the girls were all in sailor fukus, a feature Haruka had never been able to puzzle out post-dream. 

Haruka, never very practical in a crisis, had failed to find the source of the bleeding for each of them three times in a row and was now performing a silent vigil, helpless as each one bled out. They all cry out to her, in words she doesn’t understand - Uranus! - before dying prettily at her feet.

Once more, she came to the last girl, who always took the longest to die. Tonight, like every night, her aquamarine hair stretched out over the cold tile in sensuous waves, and the sickening hole through her torso made Haruka’s stomach nearly turn. The first night, when Haruka had screamed and wept, the girl had snapped: “Get it together, Haruka. You have to do something. You have to do something!” and promptly expired. Every other night she had been unpleasant (in a less elegant person, Haruka might have called it rudeness) and told Haruka to go away or not to watch, which Haruka thought was patently pointless. If you were going to die it was better to have someone with you, everyone knew that.

Tonight she seemed in a more lenient mood - either Haruka had become better at managing inevitable death, or the girl had been more prosaic about her fate. She smiled weakly at Haruka, her blue eyes appallingly piercing for someone with half of their blood gone, and said “You can’t save me, you know.”

Haruka ignored her and tried to put pressure on her stomach, to staunch the bleeding. On the others she had almost given up, but maybe this girl could be saved - maybe just  _this one_  -

“Aren’t you listening? That’s no use.” The girl’s mouth was a grim line, and she was very pale. 

“Why do you talk like that? Do you not care if you die?” Haruka asked angrily.

“The others don’t understand what it does to you. They’re just stuck in this loop. I don’t want you to watch me die. I never wanted that. You look strong, but when it comes down to it you’re the one that needs -”

“I’m not weak! I can save you - tell me what to do!”

“Your problem comes in assuming that all problems can be fixed, and all people can be saved.” She smiled, and involuntarily but delicately coughed up pink, foamy spit on Haruka, which Haruka wiped off on her skirt (the awkward sailor fuku, which on anyone else would look a complete joke but on this girl looked worthy of a queen).

“But why can’t you be saved?” Haruka pleaded. “Why do I keep having these dreams?”

“Because you think that everyone’s burdens are yours to carry, naturally, so you think you have to be there when they die. I don’t know. Don’t ask me about your own psyche, I’m just a projection. Or a masturbatory fantasy of yours. Possibly both.” She smiled again. Haruka didn’t understand her, or how a masturbatory fantasy would be quite so bloody, but thought more questions were pointless and that the girl needed to save her strength. She was close to passing. Haruka didn’t have a real sense of time in her dreams, but she knew enough and had seen it happen enough to know that.

“Let’s talk again tomorrow night. I think we’re really getting somewhere,” the girl said, in a way that said they were clearly getting nowhere. Then she convulsed, her eyes spinning upwards in her face in a frightening grimace, until she died and Haruka clutched her cold body and wept for reasons that she didn’t understand.

–

Haruka woke with a start, tears running down her face, her hands clutching the bedsheets around her chest. Her hair clung to her sweaty temples and the feeling of dread deep in her stomach didn’t allow her the comfort of pretending nothing had happened.

She got up quickly, trying to put the event behind her. She shoved two layers of sports bras on her frame for good measure, methodically pulling them down so that her button-up shirt would actually fit. There was no reason for her to have breasts other than the ruin her previously perfect aesthetic, she was pretty sure. She grabbed a piece of toast and her school bag and got on her bike, shoving the toast into her mouth and chewing furiously. She had been pulled over for speeding the other day and her expensive car had been impounded. While her parents were usually absent enough not to give her any problems, this one had been tough to explain away.

It was the first week of term at Mugen Academy, a prestigious school where the new rich, old rich and underprivileged and overeducated intermixed. Haruka’s family fell under the first category, and while they were terminally absent at birthdays and sports events, god forbid if she didn’t get good grades. Still, academics, driving, and running kept her reasonably busy. Oh, and affairs in the janitor’s closet with Elsa Gray, but those had been few and far between lately.

Elsa sat next to her in Trigonometry, but didn’t ruffle Haruka’s hair like usual and looked away when Haruka glanced over. Haruka was so preoccupied she almost didn’t notice a new student and the teacher’s frantic attempts to gain the attention of the class.

“Class - put that down, Yusuke! Class, this is Michiru Kaioh. Please make her feel very welcome at Mugen!” The teacher’s nervous tone meant this girl must be seriously loaded. She looked like her family could own the next wing of the school, or a new library. Haruka looked her over and had a jolt of shock as the girl met her eyes and she remembered last night’s dream, the gaping hole in this girl’s very stomach, and her breathy words, “Let’s talk again tomorrow night.” 

“Is there anything you’d like to say to introduce yourself, Kaioh-san?” asked the teacher. 

“I am very pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Michiru Kaioh. Haruka was surprised she didn’t curtsey.

Haruka couldn’t help staring at her for the rest of class, but the girl didn’t look up from her work, and Elsa glared at her every time she looked over. Completely distracted, Haruka half-assed her pop quiz and sat contemplating how she’d dreamt about the same girl for four days and seen the girl a few seats away from her die too many times to be comfortable. Oh, and in a sailor fuku. 

Class ended, and Elsa hissed in Haruka’s ear. “We’re going to get coffee today. Meet me there, you know the place,” and then stomped angrily off.

–

Haruka did indeed know the place, but she was not looking forward to it. Aside from frantic makeouts in the janitor’s closet, she didn’t want much from Elsa, who she viewed more as a friend or makeout buddy. Elsa, on the other hand, wanted a girlfriend. Haruka wasn’t so sure about that. First, the “girl” part didn’t really seem to fit with Haruka’s self-image, and then the whole commitment business seemed like a lot to stomach. Haruka came prepared for a fight, or at the very least a meltdown.

She arrived earlier than Elsa, got her coffee, and furtively scanned the crowd for the angry red-haired runner. Sighing, she settled into her coffee and working on some English homework. She was so engrossed that when she looked up, she was startled by Kaioh before her, princess-like in her school uniform, her hair tied back with a bow.

“Is this seat taken?” asked Kaioh. Her voice was deeper than Haruka had heard it before, her eyes were sparkling, and her skin looked astonishingly radiant in comparison to how Haruka had seen her previously. 

“Of course not,” Haruka said, in what she hoped was a smooth intonation, jumping up quickly to pull out the seat for Kaoih. 

“I feel like I recognize you from somewhere,” mused the girl, a delicate hand cupping her heart shaped face as she stirred her tea. 

“I think I would remember a face like yours.” Haruka replied, trying not to sound too eager.

Kaioh smiled, a little too wide for her face. “Have you been having any weird dreams lately?”

Haruka started. Although she was in familiar territory flirting idly with pretty girls, revelations about recurring death dreams were not in her wheelhouse. “Ah! Maybe…”

“Hmm. I had a dream about someone who looked like you.” Michiru sipped her tea, the picture of innocence. 

“Oh really? What did I do?”

Michiru paused, her eyes scanning the room behind Haruka, her tone delicate. “Well…I’d rather not say. But if you’d like to talk about it in private, I’d be interested.” 

Haruka flushed. Was this girl hitting on her?! Or alternatively, had she dreamed she’d died four nights in a row as well? That would be incredibly awkward. She had perfect hair in real life, too. This was horrible.

“It looks like you have company. I guess this seat wasn’t free after all.” She had finished her tea during their short conversation, the cup still steaming slightly, and walked away to put it away at the counter. Haruka wasn’t sure whether she was a goddess, a queen, or a normal girl. Either way she wanted to pray at her altar.

Elsa took the seat Kaioh vacated, obviously fuming. “This is what I’m talking about! You’re always talking to other girls!” 

Haruka sighed, nodded, said various words of agreement that might either placate or infuriate Elsa in turn, and couldn’t help watching Kaioh as she left. 

–

“Don’t worry, Tenoh. I’ve given up on you!” said Elsa the following morning, clearly in a very chipper mood in Trigonometry. At the blackboard, Takanawa droned on about polynomials. Nobody was listening. It was a testament to his poor teaching that nobody at Mugen would pay attention; most kids at Mugen would take fervent notes if a teacher told them the proper way to wipe their butts.

“We can still be friends, right?” asked Haruka.

“Of course!” chirped Elsa, and then gave Haruka a hair ruffle that took her quite a while to recover from. As she was running her hands through her hair, Kaioh turned around, gave her a once-over, and smiled. It was a little discomfiting seeing Kaioh without her being covered in blood, but Haruka was beginning to like this version much better. 

Last night, she had dreamed of a field of poppies, a clear sky, and a picnic with Kaioh. She had eaten chocolate strawberries and then put her head in Michiru’s lap, in the shade of Michiru’s hugely brimmed summer hat. As she drifted off to sleep, all the poppies turned into the skeletons of mice, and an owl swooped down to steal the last strawberry from Haruka’s hand. Michiru tried to throw her hat at it and yelled “Fuck off!” It flew off with the strawberry and the flowered hat on its head, hooting indignantly. 

–

She didn’t get a chance to interact with Kaioh until much later in the day, after the last bell rang. “Any weird dreams lately, Kaioh-san?” she asked, too casually.

“Absolutely. Although weirdness is relative, of course.” Kaioh said, tossing a curly lock over her shoulder and away from her school bag’s strap.

“I could walk you home and we could talk about it,” Haruka said, noting that Elsa Gray was hanging back awkwardly and waiting to talk to her. Oh please god, not now.

“I don’t usually walk; I have a car. I can give you a ride,” Kaioh said lightly, smiling too widely again.

“Oh! That would be great.” 

“I dreamed about you in a skirt, for the record.” Kaioh smirked. Haruka turned red. Behind them, Elsa Gray gave her barking laugh - Haruka was sure she didn’t mean it cruelly, but the idea of Haruka in a skirt WAS laughable - and Michiru turned around to raise an eyebrow, at which point Elsa tried to cough to disguise her laughter and met Haruka’s eyes, grinning.

“You looked good in it,” Kaioh said decidedly, evidently choosing to ignore the spectacle of Elsa. Haruka gulped nervously, not really sure what to say in response to that and settling, cogently, on “Er!”

At this point they had reached the school gates, and Elsa hopped on her bike, waved goodbye to Haruka cheerily, and winked at her. “Where’s your car?” Haruka asked, peering through the rows of overpriced SUVs. Kaioh opened the door to the limo in front of them, which Haruka should have predicted.

It was nice enough to ride around in a limousine, Haruka had to admit, although she did miss controlling the speed. Still, it gave her ample time to examine Kaioh, who had spread out her stuff on all the seats and was chatting with the driver about her day and laughing when he asked questions about her new school. She was much more at ease here, and with adults, than with the people at school - Haruka could see that. Already she was looking more comfortable and relaxed, less strained and guarding.

Haruka directed them to her apartment, where theoretically her father lived as well - but he hadn’t for years. “We’re going to have a study date, Francois,” Kaioh said smoothly, pulling a surprised Haruka out of the air conditioned limo by her hand. 

“Very good, miss.”

Haruka might have asked, “We are?” but she worried it would have come out as a quaver. Instead she was silent, and wondered about Kaioh as they climbed up the stairs, about her ability to be quietly assertive and to know when she was wanted. Haruka had never been very good at that.

“This is me,” Haruka said, fishing for the keys as Kaioh leaned against the door frame. “Are you sure you want to come in?”

“I thought we could talk about the dreams,” said Kaioh breezily, letting herself in. If Haruka had known a girl would be coming over, she would have cleaned up. The place wasn’t filthy, but it was conspicuously lived in, with Haruka’s boxers on the floor in several places, used coffee cups all over the kitchen table, and a poorly tended entrance with coats thrown haphazardly on a lone chair.

“Do you live here alone?” Kaioh asked, peering into the depths of the apartment. It was a nice place, but Haruka hadn’t kept it up very well. To someone very rich, it was probably shocking. Haruka tried to kick her boxers into a less obvious position. 

“Um, my dad comes by occasionally. Once or twice a month. To make sure I haven’t died. And to check the mail.”

“It must be lonely,” Kaioh said, more a statement than a question, as she walked towards the large window.

“Sometimes it is. Lately I’ve been pretty well-accompanied in my dreams, though,” Haruka replied, before she lost her courage.

“Have you?” Kaioh’s eyes sparkled. “I would like something to drink,” Kaioh added, effortlessly reminding Haruka that she was being a subpar host.

“Oh! What would you like to drink? I have coffee, orange juice, water?” Her paltry offerings were not enough for this girl. Nothing was enough for her. Haruka fluttered anxiously around the kitchen, wishing she had something better.

“Coffee, please,” Kaioh said, pulling up one of the high stools to the kitchen island. Haruka set to making coffee, remembering to add less beans so it wasn’t like the battery acid she usually drank. It was nice to have something to do with her hands that felt routine, a ritual amid all this chaos.

“About the dreams. They’re getting more frequent, aren’t they?” Kaioh said as the coffeemaker grumbled and steamed.

“Well…yes. What have yours been like?”

“Well, I’ve died three or four times. You were there, you know. And then there have been those dreams with the owls. I imagine yours are much the same,” she said, chin resting in her delicate hands.

“Last night, the owl stole the strawberry?” Haruka asked tentatively.

Kaioh nodded. “I’ve started doing dream interpretations, not that I believe in that kind of thing, but it’s too weird to ignore,” she said, pulling a large book from her school bag and thumping it on the counter.  _Simple Dream Interpretations for the Modern-Day Witch_ , Haruka read. 

“I checked it out at the library,” she said, to Haruka’s questioning glance. “It’s peer-reviewed…or as peer-reviewed and factual as this type of thing gets.” Haruka was stuck imagining princess-like Kaioh checking out this tome from the Mugen library and forced herself not to laugh, instead grabbing coffee supplies.

Haruka poured her a full cup of coffee and offered sugar and cream, both of which Kaioh declined absently with a wave of her manicured hand as she flipped through the book. “The poppies are death, sleep, opium, maybe something clouding our sight. The animal bones were reality, or whatever is really happening in our dreams. Something we did changed the nature of what we saw,” she continued, sounding somewhat rehearsed.

“And the owl in the floppy hat?”

A leveling glance. “Well, I don’t know about the floppy hat, but owls can be the gatekeepers of the underworld or protectors of the dead. Or they can give knowledge, intelligence. Maybe something we did summoned the owl. Maybe you broke us out of the cycle we were stuck in, somehow.”

“What about all the times you were dead? What do sailor fukus symbolize?” There had to be a reason for the sailor fukus, beyond a deeply repressed fetish that Haruka couldn’t fathom.

“I haven’t gotten that far. Those seemed too real. I’m not sure if they’re actual dreams, or memories of a past life.” She snapped the large book shut.

“A past life? I don’t think there’s ever been a life where I would wear that outfit and high heels. And if that’s true, how did I die? Everyone else died, but I didn’t, so what happened in the end?”

“You mean you haven’t had that dream yet? Hmmm. I have.” Michiru rested her hand on the counter, then picked it up with an appalled glance that signaled her inappreciation of Haruka’s love of toast and inability to clean up crumbs.

“Sorry about that. Haven’t cleaned in a while,” Haruka muttered, trying to sweep some more of the crumbs onto the floor.

“Don’t worry about it. Anyway, that one will come. It’s already come for me, several times.”

“But you’ve died three or four times now, in my dreams. How can you witness my death if you’ve already died?”

“I see it from above and then I come down to haunt you - or something,” she said. “I’m not able to talk to you or comfort you. I’ll tell you, your death isn’t pretty. And it does hurt when you die in the dreams. Sorry about that,” she grimaced, taking a moment to sip her coffee.

“Why do you think this is happening to us? We just met today. Do you think it means something?” 

“Everything means something to someone,” Kaioh said, finally, after a pause.

Haruka huffed, which only made Kaioh smile more widely and enigmatically. She was just as irritating and mysterious as she had been in the dreams.

“Alright, alright. My theory is that we knew each other in a past life, somehow. I don’t know what we were, but those women meant something to us. Every time I watch them die from the floor, something leaves me. It’s painful.” Haruka nodded, and she continued. “The strawberries…they can mean all sorts of things. They mean abundance, purity, fertility, and eternal love,” she said, glancing down at the book and her folded hands.

“They didn’t go away, even when the poppies turned into bones,” said Haruka, obliviously.

“No, they didn’t go away.” Kaioh said, not meeting her eyes. 

Sensing that Kaioh didn’t want to continue, she rooted around for something to say. “Do you want to stay for dinner?” she offered. Haruka couldn’t cook, but she had takeout on speed dial and her dad’s credit card.

Michiru closed her eyes, seemingly taking a moment and a breath, and then said, “Actually - and I know this is odd - but I was hoping I could stay here tonight. I want to see what would happen if we dreamed in the same room. Maybe we could have some shared sort of dream…thing. That’s what the book says, anyway.”

“Of course you’re welcome to stay here. Won’t your family worry, though?”

“It’s alright. Francois is familiar with my study date schedule,” Kaioh said. Haruka was struck momentarily by the fact that Kaioh might have overnighted with other girls, in other cities far away. Perhaps she was one of many such conquests. Still, the shared dreams couldn’t be part of the usual deal…

She didn’t particularly like thinking of Kaioh in someone else’s arms. Kaioh was too perfect, too pristine, too new.

“I could order takeout?” Haruka asked, reaching for the phone. The delivery guy knew her order and name by heart, but Kaioh didn’t need to know that.

“Nonsense. It looks like you have a fully functional kitchen here,” Kaioh said, glancing around the kitchen. It had new appliances and counters but was cluttered with dirty dishes. The stove had something crusted on it from the last time her dad visited and made one of his famous breakfasts.

“It’s functional, but I don’t think I have much in the pantry.” 

Kaioh, displaying her usual assertive tendencies, started grabbing items from the pantry and put one of the only clean pots on the stove. “Kaioh-san!” Haruka protested, jumping up and yet not feeling moved to actually stop her.

“You can call me Michiru now. You’ve seen me die four times, I’ve seen you die a couple times and you’ve fallen asleep on my lap. And if past lives are real, we’ve probably known each other for centuries,” Michiru said, with the kind of tone that didn’t allow argument. Haruka would never have stood in the way of anything this girl wanted.

“A-alright, Michiru-san.” At this, Michiru smiled, standing over the pot into which she was throwing a bewildering amount of spices and herbs. She appeared to be making some sort of soup concocted from sheer willpower, chicken stock, and some frozen chicken Haruka had left to die long ago in the freezer.

Haruka couldn’t resist asking: “Where did you learn all this?  _Simple Cooking for the Modern Witch_?” 

“Funny,” said Michiru, neither laughing nor looking up, but quirking up one side of her mouth. She had tied up her hair as she worked and put on the only apron Haruka owned, which was green and covered in dried pancake better quite possibly older than both of them.

Haruka decided to make herself useful, and started doing the dishes she had neglected for months. 

“Maybe the rodent bones represent your kitchen,” Michiru mused, as she closed the lid to the pot and leaned over to wash her hands. Haruka laughed despite herself.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for top!Michiru and some mild kink. I don’t want to spoil too much but if you are triggered by specific content please message me and I’ll let you know!

The soup took a while to cook, left on low heat simmering for a few hours. In the meantime, Michiru and Haruka had cleaned the kitchen and Michiru had started doing her homework, which Haruka discovered she was not easily diverted from with light conversation or attempts to turn on the television. “Don’t you have work to do as well?” Michiru asked, irritably, after the third repetition of this minor battle.

“I have work, I just don’t usually do it at home.”

“You can’t do it in class!” Michiru said, scandalized.

Haruka shrugged. “Home is where I relax.”

“Maybe running from Elsa Grey tires you out,” Michiru said, pretending to go back to work innocently after saying something so pointed.

“Elsa Grey is just a friend,” Haruka said, but was pleased that Michiru had even brought it up and was potentially jealous.

“Oh yes, she looks very friendly with you, Haruka. It’s alright. I’ve kissed my friends, too, so don’t worry about it.”

Haruka’s brow furrowed. “Not anyone around here, right? You just moved here.”

Michiru’s gaze was calculating, and her lips quirked up again. “No, not anyone around here,” she agreed, then left Haruka to ponder that one as she went back to her homework. Haruka wandered away to make up the other empty bedroom, washing her only extra set of sheets, fluffing the pillows, and trying to hide all her discarded dirty clothes that littered the floor. Back in the day it had been her father’s room, but most recently she had been using it as a place to stash all her athletic gear. It was a nice room, though probably a little too bare and masculine for someone like Michiru.

In her own room, she had already shoved her binder, packing cock and harness into the deepest drawer she could find; there was no way that Michiru could chance across them. She had ordered all of these on her dad’s card - back before the car was impounded, he hardly ever paid any attention to charges on his credit card. There were many things she wouldn’t mind baring to this girl, but this was one thing she instinctually felt like hiding.

“Are you making up an extra bed for me?” She jumped. Michiru had breezed into the room without her noticing. She was awfully close, whether by design or accident - Haruka wasn’t sure. She smelled like clean laundry and, very faintly, of jasmine and a blend of other flowers Haruka could never hope to identify. Haruka edged backward, nervous.

“Yes, in the spare room.”

“Hmm, so this is your room,” said Michiru. Haruka nodded self-consciously, at a loss as to where to put her hands or what to do in Michiru’s presence. Although Haruka was a flirt by nature, she found herself very shy next to someone so assertive.

“It’s good that you’re doing the laundry, but we should probably sleep in the same room.”

Haruka tried to control her expression. Typically, she was the one attempting to convince girls to sleep in the same room.

“So we can share the same dream. It’s all in the book.” She flopped down on the bed. Haruka very much hoped she had pulled last night’s pair of boxers out of there. “Anyhow, this place has better psychic energy. I don’t have much experience with psychic energy, but the book says to trust your gut instinct. And I like it better in here. That other room is lonely.”

“Um, I guess you can take the bed and I can take the floor,” Haruka said, staring at the wooden floor as if it would give her the answer, blushing and hoping that Michiru wouldn’t notice.

“Is sleeping in the same bed really such a big deal?” Michiru asked, tilting her head as she smiled.  Haruka could feel her brain slowly melting.

“I don’t mind sharing a bed, I just worry that you might be uncomfortable. In the same bed as me. I mean, if you’re fine, I’m fine. Whatever you want,” she concluded, mercifully.

“I guess you haven’t had that dream yet, either,” said Michiru, smiling too wide again, “or else you wouldn’t care.”

“W-what dream is that?“

Michiru looked supremely unconcerned with Haruka’s suddenly burning interest. “I’ll tell you later. We should eat dinner. Also, do you have clothes I could borrow? I can’t sleep in this.”

Haruka gave her some maroon and white striped pajamas, which, predictably, looked adorable on her small frame and clashed with her bright hair. They set down to the soup, which by now had turned into something appetizing. There was a comfortable silence as they ate, punctuated by Michiru turning pages in her copy of Simple Dream Interpretations for the Modern-Day Witch. Haruka glanced over and saw she was reading about succubi, complete with graphic illustrations, and was overcome by blushing again.

As they finished eating, Haruka put the dishes in and stared at Michiru, something that was quickly becoming her favorite pastime. Michiru was deep in study, hunched over her bizarre sexual illustrations, when she yawned and stretched. It would have been unbearably cute, and solely cute, if her breasts hadn’t pushed against the soft fabric of the borrowed pajama top. Haruka didn’t want to be the type of person who couldn’t help thinking thoughts about a girl going braless in her presence like a schoolboy, and resolved not to look again if she could help it.  Still, there was a part of her that was imagining and yearning for a situation where Michiru welcomed her to touch, to look, to feel with abandon.

“So you’ve had more dreams than I have. How long has it been going on?” Haruka asked, shoving her own weakness down.

Swallowing another yawn, Michiru said, “Oh, years. Months and years. I’ve always had weird, fucked-up dreams.” She fiddled with her hairbow absently. Haruka was suddenly reminded of the girl who had shouted at her to leave, to not watch her die, and her heart ached.

“Anyhow, it started around puberty. At first I thought I was just weird. I got a lot of counseling.” Her blue eyes were luminous in the low light. Although Michiru was classically pretty and probably knew it, there was something slightly off about the dimensions of her mouth that made her look better than cookie-cutter. Haruka liked that. Her skin was ivory, incredibly pale, and her hair was always in soft waves. A lock had come loose from her bow and was soft against the side of her face; Haruka liked that, too.

“What was the first dream you had?” Michiru asked.

“The one where you die. A little under a week ago,” Haruka said, softly.

“That’s so interesting. It’s right when I got into town. I wonder if I am the one creating this?” Michiru frowned. “If I am at the center of all of this, what does that mean?”

“What if we had never met? Do you think we would have kept on having dreams about each other forever?” wondered Haruka.

“Oh, we would have met. Even if I didn’t attend Mugen. We’re supposed to meet,” Michiru said, seriously. “Fated.” Her tone was final. That was it, done. They were fated.

“What does that mean, fated? You mean it had to happen? Or else?”

“I’m relatively sure our meeting has something to do with saving the world. Or something important. Don’t you feel like that too?”

“Well, it feels important right now, but we’re teenagers,” Haruka said, blithely, which earned her a stare that would have cooled an active volcano.

“Age is a made-up concept, you know,” Michiru said, somewhat characteristically for a teenager. “Anyhow, we’ve definitely been reincarnated once or twice. My spirit has been around the block and back, so to speak, and so has yours. Don’t you feel a little worn out around the edges?”

Haruka wasn’t sure about worn around the edges, but she agreed that it was around ten o’clock and that they had school early next morning. Michiru sighed at this astute observation.

“It worries me that the first dream you had was the one with me dying. Maybe our time loops aren’t matching up well,” she muttered, rifling through the book’s pages again.

“Well, what was your first dream?” Haruka asked, more curious than she’d allow herself to admit.

Michiru appeared somewhat flustered by this question. “Well, my dreams started around puberty.” She was flipping through the book again, the tempo of the endless page-turning increasing, and Haruka looked down to realize she had landed on the succubi chapter. When she looked up to meet Michiru’s eyes again, she was flushed, and quickly closed the book with a loud snap.

Haruka waited, sensing Michiru’s discomfort but unsure how to alleviate it. “For a while, I thought you were a succubus,” Michiru said, after a long breath.

“A succubus? What?” Haruka said, remembering the illustrations of the women with the pointy ears, fangs, and stacked bodies in Michiru’s book.

Michiru was blushing, something that Haruka could get used to. She sat down on a stool next to her, leaning on the counter and feeling stumped.

“Well, the early dreams were…sexual. And I couldn’t see your face. But you’re, um, very much my type.”

“Your…type?” Haruka was at a loss.

“Umm. Yes. With your hair and your, um, the way you dress and, ah, well.”

“No, no, now you have to keep telling me!” If it was possible, Michiru was blushing even more than she had been before.

“Don’t pretend you’re not into me, too! I’ve seen the way you look at me. And also, we’ve had sex ten ways from Sunday in our past lives if my dreams are any indication.”

Haruka was speechless. She wanted Michiru to know it was okay with her, though, all okay, just very odd. “I’m just…processing all this. It’s a lot to handle. But you’re right,” she added, seriously. “I do like you.”

At this, Michiru smiled at her. With her too-wide mouth and her hair framing her face, she looked angelic, if still a bit red after all the nerves.

“I don’t want to assume anything. But I know you like me, and I like you,” Michiru said, with their air of someone struggling for words.

Haruka leaned over and kissed her full on the mouth. Michiru started, made a small noise, and then her hands were in Haruka’s hair, carding through it and then falling to her collar, pulling her insistently closer until she was straddling Michiru’s chair, hyper-aware of where both their hips and bodies were nearly touching.

Michiru’s lips were pressed against hers again and again, searchingly and passionately. Her hands were all over her: on her neck, her throat, at her waist. Haruka groaned, feeling all at once that they were going too fast and not fast enough. Michiru started kissing her neck and undoing buttons on her shirt, and Haruka gasped, feeling an immediate rush of arousal that she had never felt so strongly before. She couldn’t believe that beautiful Michiru was in her arms, someone who seemed as regal and intangible as the sea itself.

Haruka pushed her back for a moment, hands lingering on the delicate expanse of her shoulders. Michiru’s pupils were huge, dilated, and her lips were very red. Haruka was used to stopping at this point - the straight girls that were her bread and butter were easily stymied, and Haruka rarely was comfortable continuing either. For Haruka, and particularly with those specific girls, it was more about the thrill of the chase, conquest, and the games she liked to play than about actual sexuality. On the other hand, here was Michiru looking at her with blue eyes, impatient, but clearly willing to wait until she was done processing.

“Are you alright? Was that okay?” Michiru asked. Her long eyelashes cast deep shadows on her cheeks. She was irresistible, Haruka had to admit.

“Yes, yes,” Haruka said, and pulled her closer again, hands fisted in her silky hair, mouth on hers, desperate.

Michiru was just as desperate back, and her hands were everywhere again - cupping Haruka’s chest, on the expanse of her back, pulling off her shirt as quickly as possible and discovering her admittedly rather unappealing black sports bra, which she did not appear to be shocked by. Haruka had never been this far before with anyone - much less sports bra-less in front of others, as her breasts were not her favorite body part - but she felt the full force of Michiru’s assertiveness as the bra was pulled over her head, at which point Michiru went back to sucking elaborate patterns on her neck. Haruka hissed and shuddered as one bite went slightly too hard for comfort, and Michiru pulled up and smiled at her in a way that showed she was not at all sorry. “Was that okay?” she asked, her finger lightly on the bruise.

“Uhh, yes, definitely okay, but we do have school in the next few weeks, so.” Haruka said articulately, grinding her hips down for more contact.

Michiru smirked and pushed with her fingers on the freshly bruised skin. Haruka moaned. “Ughh, that hurts.”

“Do you like it, though?” asked Michiru, seemingly nonchalant. Still, Haruka had the impression that if she didn’t like it, Michiru would stop immediately. But she did like it, and she had to admit it, from the feeling of clenching and tightening going on in her body, the way her abs kept stabbing her and how she couldn’t stop being winded, gasping.

“Yes, okay, I like it, yes already,” Haruka groaned, and Michiru went to her neck again. It seemed like she was really into this biting thing, which Haruka had previously been able to take or leave with girls she’d had make out sessions with (after all, if you were having short make out trysts in multiple closets, there could be no hickies, and no ownership). But she could seriously get used to this. Michiru’s hand was fisted in her hair, controlling, and her teeth were sharp and every time Haruka cried out in pain, she seemed to get even more into it, biting her faster and harder.

After some time, Michiru pulled back to survey the damage, and apparently satisfied with what she saw - Haruka debauched, perhaps - she moved onwards, gripping between Haruka’s legs, where she had previously only shoved a knee for Haruka to grind on. Haruka trembled and shook as she touched her, and her neck ached in a pleasant way. Michiru had casually put her other hand reverently on her neck, rubbing against the bruises. Her eyes met Haruka’s briefly, and she smiled sweetly again, too controlled, barely even sweating - damn her.

Pushing up from against the kitchen wall she had been pressed against, Haruka leaned over Michiru and kissed her savagely, biting her lower lip lightly. Which felt a bit weird, actually, but not outside of the bounds of what they had done tonight. Michiru was kissing her back just as hard, pulling her hair and suddenly shoving her up against the wall again with strength Haruka hadn’t predicted. She was very close and slightly flushed; Haruka hoped it was a crack in her armor, and was surprised when her eyes were icy, angry, still controlled.

“Did I say you could touch me?” Michiru asked silkily.

“What?” said Haruka.

“I’m in charge. Or do you not want it that way tonight?”

“Ah,” said Haruka articulately.

“This is how I always imagine it, dream it. But if it’s not what you want, we can stop.”

“No, Michiru - I like it this way. It’s just, I’m not super passive. If you’re going to do that to me, I’m going to fight back.”

Michiru smiled, coming closer again. “I know. I like that about you. But usually, in my dreams, I punish you after you do stupid things like that. I like to be in control. I know this is moving fast, but can I slap you?”

“Where? On my face?” Haruka asked, somewhat shocked. Again, this was not part of her straight-schoolgirl-makeout-in-the-closet repertoire. Usually she was the aggressor. Not that there was anything wrong with being submissive, or being slapped…the thought had just never crossed her mind. And she’d never had someone she trusted enough. Michiru was regarding her silently and patiently, as if to say, “Of course on your face, you big dummy,” (although she was too well-bred to be that crass, naturally).

“I don’t know if I’ll like it. Give it a try,” Haruka shrugged. Michiru laughed, and Haruka couldn’t help grinning either. She felt safe, like they were best friends reunited after a lifetime who were just playing some kind of game, only that game evidently was a bizarre sexual fetish sleepover. Haruka didn’t mind.

Michiru stepped even closer and slapped her, quickly, on the cheek. It stung, and Haruka yelped. Her head rushed slightly and she closed her eyes. Michiru came even closer and kissed her again. “Did you like that?” she crooned, low, between kisses. Haruka was short of breath again, gasping.

“Yes,” said Haruka, because she didn’t trust herself to say anything else, and because it was true.

Michiru was smiling now, very in control. “I want to do it again. Say please if you want it.”

“Yes, please, Michiru,” Haruka groaned as she was swiftly slapped again. Her face felt flushed and she felt heady, lost somehow in a way she’d never felt before.

“Fuck, you’re so hot. How far do you want to go with this? Haruka? Is this okay?”

At some point Haruka had fallen to her knees - she wasn’t sure when, but it had happened very naturally - and all she could do was nod. Michiru had been clothed this entire time, still in her ridiculous pajamas while she was slapping Haruka around, and she took this moment to pull off her pants, revealing some dark purple lace panties that Haruka might have appreciated more at an earlier juncture. As it was, she felt too far gone to appreciate the beauty of them and the reality that they would have cost a fortune.

“Do you want me?” Michiru asked her from above, fist in her hair again.

“Yes, please can I?” asked Haruka, feeling as though she was in a dream but knowing what she was being asked. When you were on your knees in front of a hot girl, there were only so many options, and one obvious solution.

“Please may you what?” asked Michiru, hand tighter in her hair now.

“Please may I make you come, Michiru? Please?”

“Yes, ugh,” said Michiru, pulling her panties off.

She was neatly trimmed - Haruka wouldn’t have imagined her any other way, she was so organized and carefully contained in her real life presentation - and she pulled Haruka forward by the hair, groaning when her tongue finally touched her. She tasted intense, sweet and musky at the same time, and she was very, very wet, Haruka realized with another strong jolt of desire. Haruka couldn’t help thinking about all the times Michiru had dreamed of this, possibly come to this, imagined that Haruka was her own personal succubus. Although she had little practice, it was pretty intuitive to learn what she was doing, especially with Michiru trembling above her and guiding her tongue with every jerk of her hips.

“Put your hands behind your back,” was the only thing Michiru said, at which point she had to moan and gasp a little, a few sharp intakes of breath. Haruka lived for getting those noises out of her.

And Michiru was quiet - maybe naturally, because she’d learned to be in a mansion with so many servants. She was biting her lip, but Haruka wanted to hear, so she kept trying to go faster, and Michiru’s hand was tightening and loosening in her hair, again and again, in rhythm.

“Good boy,” said Michiru, and Haruka put that away to think about later, because it was too much for now.

She kept going for quite a while, through tongue cramps and an uncomfortable feeling in her neck, until Michiru’s legs were shaking and she cried out, falling down against the wall and more or less on top of Haruka when she finished. Haruka was gasping for air, there was a huge crick in her neck and her entire face was wet, but she did not remove her hands from behind her back. Michiru took a moment to come down, her body still shaking and clenching with aftershocks. Haruka noted with some pride that it seemed like an all-body clenching that went on for several more seconds than her own usually did.

“You’ve been very good tonight. Better than I expected.” Michiru was smiling at her and put a hand in her hair, soft. Haruka said nothing, waiting, hoping. “Do you want to come?”

“Yes, please, Michiru, please,” said Haruka, nearly whining, wanting her so much and so, so ready.

Michiru’s hair was clinging to her temples and she was red and disheveled in a way that Haruka wanted to remember. She pushed them both into Haruka’s bedroom, on her flannel-covered bed and jumped up next to her.

“Is this okay?” she asked, reaching down to rub Haruka through her boxers. Haruka moaned in response because it was so, so okay and Michiru needed to stop asking that question, even though her intentions were good. Haruka gasped and shuddered and when she tried to look away or close her eyes, Michiru would grip her chin and redirect her, and Haruka came like that, looking straight into her eyes, fucking shocked that it happened so quickly, gasping and jerking against her fingers again and again and again. Michiru kissed her one last time and smirked as she came.

“I don’t know if we’ll dream at all after that,” Haruka said, rolling over, and Michiru laughed.


End file.
